


Heart of Gold, Heart of Stone

by credoimprobus



Category: Guns For Hire (Movie Concept)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Case, Detective Noir, F/F, Femslash, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Female Characters (kind of), POV First Person, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/pseuds/credoimprobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust is a bad thing to give to the wrong person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of Gold, Heart of Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tubesock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tubesock/gifts).



> Many thanks to Brumeier for the speed-beta!
> 
> To anyone unfamiliar with the source, it consists entirely of a matched set of Tumblr posts: see [here](http://freckledhoney.tumblr.com/post/34052766242/in-guns-for-hire) and [here](http://freckledhoney.tumblr.com/post/35422885132/archival-footage-of-guns-for-hire-x). I've named Lucy and Gina's characters Frankie (nickname from "Frances") Chen and Yvette Beauregard respectively.

Gone.

The Cormorant Heart was gone, and so was Yvette.

I stared at the note still gripped in my hand, Yvette's fine, looping script cut through with sharp crinkles. I'd crumpled it up in my rush to check on the cache, too distracted to either drop or take care with it.

  I hope you can see that it's not personal, and that you can forgive me some day.

I felt like the damn thing was mocking me, taking pot-shots at my disastrous breakdown in judgement. I'd known from the start that I shouldn't trust her, and still somehow, _somehow_ , I'd let myself get reeled in like the catch of the day. All just for those big, soft eyes and those killer legs, all bound up in a woman with a taste for sin and danger.

I really thought I was smarter than that.

Odds were that Yvette had been long past city limits before dawn even broke, but I pulled on my clothes and took off to scour the streets anyway. If there was the tiniest chance that she was still in reach, I'd do my damnedest to catch up to her.

And throw her traitor ass over to the cops.

\--

It all started when I was hired to look into an antiquities dealer's death: the police had ruled it an accidental hit and run, but the dead guy's daughter wasn't so convinced that was all there was to it. She also had some pretty firm theories about her old man's assistant, so here I was, kicking off the case by checking up on the good Ms. Beauregard.

It was obvious that she'd been over all the routine questions already with the police, and probably more than once, if her indulgent tone was anything to go by. Judging by the way she emphasised being Talbot's _head_ assistant, she probably also got taken for a simple secretary a lot, and was sick of not getting enough credit.

I could sympathise.

"I handled most of the business's day-to-day, and took over for Mr. Talbot when he was travelling." Beauregard shifted in her chair, crossing her legs, and tossed an errant lock of hair out of her eyes. "And before you ask, no, I didn't really know him outside of work."

Yeah, she'd definitely been down this road before. "If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem all that torn up about his death."

"Like I said, our relationship was strictly professional. We only ever talked about business; I wouldn't even have known he was married if his wife hadn't attended company functions." She sighed and laced her fingers over her skirt-clad knee. "Obviously, it's terrible what happened to him. But I've had time to make my peace with it."

I nodded in acceptance, and hesitated for a beat before I moved on to the next question. "Not saying I don't believe you, but Talbot's daughter seems awfully convinced that you two were having an affair."

Beauregard laughed, loud and raucous; I had to wonder why she found that so hilarious. "So that's who brought you in, was it?" She leaned forward on her elbows, and smiled meaningfully at me. "Trust me, we weren't. He wasn't exactly... my _type_."

The look she levelled at me was suggestive and blatantly appreciative, leaving little doubt what she meant. With the topic on the table, I couldn't deny I found Ms. Beauregard easy on the eyes myself, even if I hated to admit it, given the situation.

She was a potential murder suspect, after all.

\--

It probably wasn't the smartest move to hit the bar after a long, frustrating day of chasing dead leads, with no trace of Yvette to be found. I may have had the Heart in my possession for less than twelve hours, but that didn't stop word about it from spreading.

It's not as if I didn't know how sought-after the amulet was.

Long story short, Cafferty's goons caught me with my figurative pants down when I stumbled out a good, solid sauce-up later, and I had precious little option but to go along, nice and compliant, when the muzzle of a gun was pressed into my side. At least the backseat I got shoved into was nice and cushy; Cafferty liked his cars swanky.

"I think you know how this works," Cafferty said, tapping a cigarette against his engraved silver case, and didn't even do me the courtesy of glancing at me. His flunky in the front seat was giving me plenty enough eyeball, gun pointed at me over the headrest. "You hand over the Heart, and things don't have to get uncomfortable for you."

"I don't have it," I said, and actually got a sideway flick of the eyes from Cafferty, before he stuck the cigarette between his lips and lit it. "Talbot's partner ran off with it."

I could hear the bitterness in my own voice, and probably wasn't the only one. It had been obvious, right there all along, and I hadn't seen it: every clue had pointed to Talbot having help in his black market side business, but I'd been in too deep, too damn blinded by that siren's charms, to make two and two come out to four. I'd regret it for the rest of my days.

It was no wonder Minnie Talbot had been so dead sure of an affair: her dad and Yvette _had_ been wrapped up in something plenty illicit together, even if it wasn't what she thought.

"And I suppose I'm expected to believe that?" Cafferty said, smoke wafting out with his huff of laughter.

"Would I admit to being double-crossed if it wasn't true?"

Cafferty turned to me, finally, and inclined his head after a moment's consideration. "That is a point. You always did have that pesky pride, didn't you, Frankie?"

I gritted my teeth, and resisted the urge to smush his smug face into the window. A few too many hot lead dispensers standing witness.

"You know, I really regret that I never got the chance to nail you, Stan," I said, and saw the flunky's hand tighten on the gun grip at the disrespectful use of his boss's first name. "And for that matter, that my former colleagues are too incompetent to do it for me."

Cafferty gestured to his man, and the goon relaxed; Cafferty looked impressively calm, but his eyes betrayed enough ire that it was an obvious front. I was probably lucky I was more use to Cafferty alive, right now.

"Let's say it like this. You get the Heart back for me, and your bones all get to stay in one piece. That sound like a fair deal?"

"Look," I hedged, trying for placating, "Beauregard is probably halfway across the Atlantic by now. There's not a lot I can do."

"That's hardly cause not to do your best, is it?" Cafferty said, and patted me firmly on the cheek. I knew that fixed smile well enough to know it wasn't something you messed with.

Cafferty gestured to his flunky again; the gun disappeared out of my face, and a moment later the door beside me opened pointedly.

"I like things this way," Cafferty said cheerily as I got out. "You're so much easier to put the squeeze on now that you're not a real detective anymore."

"Oh, screw--" I spat, but bit down the rest of the curse when the gun was levelled at my head again. Better not to bait Mr. Trigger Happy.

I was already walking away when Cafferty called after me, "Oh, and Frankie? I wouldn't expect me to be the only... _entrepreneur_ to call on you. Just a word of warning."

Well, crap. This day was just getting better.

\--

After a few days of the Talbot case throwing up dubious leads and unprofitable interviews, the business card I'd left with Ms. Beauregard paid off. Her voice was both excited and apprehensive when she told me she'd found something interesting, and insisted that we meet outside of the office; if that wasn't promising, I didn't know what was.

I spotted her as soon as I walked into the dark, smoky club: she was impossible to miss, awash in light on the small, intimate stage. The vibrant red of the slinky satin number she wore drew the eye better than a distress flare, and with her voice and eyes and sultry smile, she effortlessly seduced the whole room. I wasn't immune, either -- especially when her gaze fell on me, and her smile increased by several watts.

"I didn't realise you sang," I told her when she came down off the stage.

She shrugged, nonchalant, her mouth quirking up at the corner. "Girl's gotta have a hobby."

She led me to the dressing room in the back of the club, and produced a small, tatty slip of paper from her shoulder bag.

"I found a dry-cleaning ticket slipped in between some papers when I was clearing out Mr. Talbot's desk -- I suppose he'd taken a suit in just before he died. I figured his family might like to have it, so I went to pick it up. This was in one of the pockets." She held the note out for inspection. "The ink was pretty washed out, but I tried a few tricks and finally deciphered this."

 

_Leventhal & Eisler 219_   
_Valletta, St. Christopher's Street_   
_A. Accardi_

 

"Something about that was familiar, and after some thinking I figured out why," Beauregard continued, and turned back to her bag to pull out an old, leather bound volume with a cracking spine and loose, yellowed pages. I had time enough to catch the title stamped into its cover, gilding long since faded, before she carefully pried it open: _An Encyclopaedia of Charms, Talismans and Amulets: Legends and History_ , by Jacob Leventhal & Carl Eisler.

The book fell easily open to page 219.

"Talbot was obsessed with finding this," Beauregard said, pointing one elegant finger at the ornate pendant etched in bold black lines on the page. The entry was headed with _The Cormorant Heart_. "He was convinced it was real, and spent years looking for it on the side. To be honest, I sometimes felt like it was the only reason he got into this business."

I scanned the text with interest, and couldn't help laughing a little when I hit one line. "'Rumoured to bring its owner untold riches'. I can see why someone would want to find it."

"It's supposed to come at a price, of course. You know how these kinds of legends are." Beauregard shot me a wry smile, and closed the book. "Greg found some pretty ghastly stories about alleged past owners, but none of it was enough to deter him."

I picked up the note from the table where Beauregard had left it, and ran my finger over the middle line. "This address..." It matched up awfully well with the destination of Talbot's mysterious, final business trip. "Do you think he actually found it? Or at least what he thought was it?"

"I couldn't say. But if he did, you can be sure that there'd be plenty of people who'd kill to get their hands on it."

_Possibly including you._ I couldn't help thinking it, as much as I didn't want it to be true. I thanked her for the information and made ready to take my leave, but Beauregard intercepted me with a few swift steps, her heels clicking against the floor.

"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"

"I didn't really come here to socialise," I said, polite and firm, but Beauregard just laughed.

"To be honest, detective Chen, 'socialising' isn't exactly what I was hoping for." She shifted closer, enough that our bodies nearly touched, and that was all it took for the attraction I'd been squashing to rear up, leaving my common sense smashed to shreds in its wake. Yvette's smile was plain wicked, and I could feel my face heat up like a hotplate.

"You don't beat around the bush much, do you?" I laughed. It was a little more breathless than I was comfortable admitting.

"I'm a woman who knows what she wants, and isn't afraid to take it," Yvette declared, and swept my hat off in one smooth motion. She smiled when I reflexively snatched it back, holding on to the brim for several seconds before she surrendered it back to me.

There wasn't much conviction to my protest when I said, "This is really inappropriate," but that didn't make the statement any less true. "You realise you're still not ruled out as a suspect in Talbot's death, right?"

Yvette bared her teeth in a sharp, glinting grin, raising her fingers to play with the short hair at my temple. "I get the feeling you're a girl who likes a little danger, detective Chen."

I wished to god she wasn't so right.

\--

News of the sale trickled back to me within days; I guess Yvette had been too leery of the alleged curse to hold on to the Heart herself. I had no doubt that she'd made a mint off it, regardless.

I was woken up the next morning by someone committing aggravated assault on my doorbell; I dragged myself off the couch, and had just enough presence of mind to wrap a robe around myself and slip my gun into the pocket. Just in case. Someone on an errand from one of the city's disreputable businessmen wasn't likely to announce themselves like that, of course, but I wasn't awake enough for that much logic.

Instead of the thugs I half expected to be there, the mug that met me when I opened the door was none other than my old partner's. Good old Leon Esparza. I still missed that joker, as bitter as I was about the way he hung me out to dry.

Lis Hume stood beside him, not quite hiding a scowl; I guess she must have replaced me as his partner. Lis had been a good pal, once, but like the rest of my former precinct, she'd turned frosty after my fall from grace.

She was the first of the two to speak. "Chen. Don't suppose you could tell us where to find your girlfriend?"

"What?" I said. My brain wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders yet.

"Yvette Beauregard," Leon supplied. "We haven't been able to reach her for further inquiries." His neutral mask crumpled a little, and he added, disappointment loud and clear in his voice, "Seriously, Frankie, hooking up with a witness? I thought you had better sense than that."

"She wasn't my--" I started to protest, but honestly, there wasn't a whole lot of point to arguing the distinction. At least they weren't aware she'd been an outright suspect, even if Yvette had been in the clear before anything actually happened.

Instead, I sighed and asked, "You guys want some coffee?" I knew I'd need a good cup of joe -- or five -- in me if I was going to deal with this.

\--

Somehow, Beauregard weaselled her way into my investigation. I was following a lead one day and bumped into her in the shady joint it took me to, far less out of place there than she should have been.

"I came across this name, but I wasn't sure it meant anything," she offered when I confronted her. "I wanted to check up on it before I involved you."

"You shouldn't be doing this kind of thing on your own," I told her. "It could be dangerous."

Yvette smiled indulgently, obviously amused. "I can handle myself, detective. Though it's sweet of you to worry." She turned serious as she continued, "Look, I know I said I wasn't close with Talbot, and I wasn't. But he was a good boss. If he really was murdered, I want to do whatever I can to help find who did it."

No matter how many red flags the whole thing should have raised, I couldn't bring myself to disbelieve her. Worse yet, she proved herself pretty useful; she could speak the rough crowd's language better than I could, and jumped in several times to smooth ruffled feathers or lure enough trust out of someone to get us the answers we needed. If I was honest, I might not have been able to do it without her. It may have been five months since my career crashed and burned, but I was still marked as a cop, and it didn't always do me any favours.

You couldn't blame me for letting her tag along to help, after that. As an added benefit, Yvette looked less and less guilty the more evidence we uncovered; it did my conscience a world of good, because being around her so much made it all the harder to resist her. I was falling like a ton of bricks, and in time, I didn't even want to stop it.

And then, we caught the Cormorant Heart's trail, and with it Talbot's murderer's.

\--

"I can give you the buyer's name, but past that, you're on your own. Okay?"

Cafferty pursed his lips, obviously dissatisfied. I hurried to add a disclaimer, to make the compromise hopefully more palatable: "You have way better resources than I do. If you want it, you'll get it a lot faster if you don't use me as a go-between."

Cafferty sighed. "You take all the fun out of blackmail, Chen." He gestured to the waiter, and within moments my glass was refilled with the finest damn Scotch I'd tasted. Perks of meeting on Cafferty's turf, there. "I'll accept your terms. But you're going to owe me a favour, and know this: I never forget a debt."

I clenched my jaw at the proviso, but nodded stiffly. It was a lot better than the alternative, at least.

I could imagine the sour, judgemental faces my old colleagues would make at me striking deals with someone like Cafferty, but fuck it. They were going to think I was scum anyway, and they weren't the ones with limbs on the line.

"Just... spread the word that I'm out of this, would you? I'd really like to avoid any more surprise visits."

Cafferty laughed and picked up his drink, ice clinking against the glass when he gestured in assent. "Not that you're in a position to make requests, but all right. Out of the goodness of my heart."

I almost laughed, myself, but my sense of self preservation won out. The man had a healthy sense of humour, but I didn't want to push my luck. "Yeah. You're a stand-up guy, Cafferty."

Cafferty smirked. "I'm pleased that you've noticed," he said, and slammed back his Scotch.

\--

I'd been high on success and exhausted from hours spent at the station, giving a statement; that was the only defense I could offer. The force behind Talbot's death was handed over to the authorities and the Heart was safely retrieved, and so when Yvette wanted to join in my celebration, I didn't even try to say no.

Truth be told, I was all the way head over heels. Yvette was brave and determined and possessed of all kinds of hidden talents, and could set me on fire with just a look and a smile.

I'd stashed the Heart under the loose board in the kitchen, out of sight until I could figure out what to do with it, and when I returned to the couch with two glasses and my best hooch, Yvette's smile was so blinding I could have believed the sun had parked outside my window.

"I just want to thank you for everything you've done," she said, and took the glasses from my hand to place them on the table. "You've been amazing, Frankie."

I laughed, and used opening the bottle as an excuse to turn my face down; she didn't need to see the blush of pleasure I felt creeping up my cheeks. "You know I was getting paid for all of it, right? Only thing I did was my job."

"Don't short-change yourself." Yvette grasped my arm gently, and pulled on it until I sat down on the couch beside her, abandoning the bottle for the time being. "No matter why you did it, it doesn't do a single thing to diminish your accomplishments."

She leaned forward and kissed me, sweet and surprisingly chaste. The unexpected tenderness made my heart beat faster, a warm tingle spreading through me all the way down to my toes.

"You don't need to be _that_ grateful," I joked when she pulled back enough to look at me.

"Shut up," she said, laughter bubbling up in her voice, and kissed me again.

We never did touch the glasses; it wasn't far from that couch to falling into bed, and before long I was drifting off to sleep with Yvette nestled against me, happier than I'd been in a long time.

It didn't last past morning.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It had been a rough, tedious day, and all I wanted was to pour myself a stiff drink and pass out on the couch till morning. So you can imagine my delight when I walked into my rathole of an apartment, and found an uninvited guest admiring the dubious view from my living room window.

I moved my hand to my piece and cleared my throat, preparing myself for trouble. Whatever I'd expected, though, it wasn't for the intruder to turn at the sound, and the face revealed behind the wide, black brim of her hat to be one I hadn't seen in four years, and would have been glad never to see again.

_Yvette goddamned Beauregard._

I admit I probably overreacted a little.

I had my gun out and pointed square at her face in seconds. "If you're not out of here in five seconds, I swear to god I'm shooting you."

Yvette didn't even flinch, her smile remaining perfectly steady. She barely spared the gun a glance as she walked right up to me, the sway in her step sparking memories I wished weren't still so vivid.

"Aw, Frankie. Is that any way to treat a potential client?"

"You've gotta be kidding me," I said, because really, what else _was_ there to say?

Of all the ludicrous ways my day could have turned more rotten, this one sure took the cake.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic also has a short companion piece: [Discord of action, feeling, or effect](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1136549)


End file.
